From the cutting room floor, here’s early unedited scene with Yahweh and Mary, his young daughter, at an air amusement park that I removed from the book Heaven’s Ant Farm. I actually like the action in this scene. But it fails to move the story along or add new background or character information. But I thought you would enjoy the scene anyway.

Yahweh focuses his telescopic eye implants at the Superman Ride. His eyes hurt from the shine of the clear plexiglass cocoon that holds two people inside. They lie flat on their stomachs with their arms stretched forward. He turns away from the glare then realizes that this thin bubble shell is all there is to this new ride. There’s no roller coaster track or spider web of towering steel supports. Then another cocoon flies in overhead—supported by some invisible force field no doubt.

The bugged out eyes of the young boy inside catches his glance. Yahweh sighs, no doubt this kid didn’t appreciate the panoramic and unobstructed view of the ground—as it hurtled up to him. The front of the Superman Ride cocoon lifts slightly as it settles to a soft landing next to him.

Yahweh peers inside. The kid’s mouth opens with a gasp and leaves a vapor cloud on the canopy. Meanwhile another cocoon shoots overhead then up, then dives back towards Yahweh.

As Yahweh and Mary approach the waiting line, he sighs again and rubs the bristles on his face. Maybe this not such a good idea.

Jumbled conversations rise up from a group of boys ahead. They point to and chatter about a sign that offers Yahweh a reprieve from a pending convulsion and a way to save face in front of his daughter. There are three versions of the Superman Ride, reads the sign. An arrow flashes the way to the smallest of the three rides. The kiddy ride, goes no higher than fifty feet!

But Mary pulls Yahweh towards the second arrow that points in another direction. “This one goes higher!” she tells him.

Yahweh sighs again as the words—Three Hundred Feet—flash across that arrow.

Yahweh and Mary finally get to the front of the line and a plexiglass cocoon moves slowly to them. The top half of the cocoon opens up. Instinctively, Mary jumps in and lies face down with her arms stretched in front.

To Yahweh, it looks like she has done this many times before. The hair on his back stands to attention as a smiling amusement ride attendant comes his way to assist him into the enclosure. I’m not that old, Yahweh thinks as the attendant lifts his leg over the edge of the open cocoon. But the resistance in his legs suggests another story.

Once inside and on his stomach, the attendant attaches loose fitting straps around him and Mary. Safely ensconced, the attendant lowers the upper half of the cocoon over Yahweh and Mary.

The closed cocoon muffles the outside noises. Several long and quiet moments go by. Fresh air circulates silently around him and he can easily move his body within the confines of the security straps.

But the muffled sounds gives the cocoon a confined feel—like I’m in a see-through coffin. He tilts his head towards Mary.

She greets him with a big smile. “Ready daddy?”

Yahweh manages a weak smile as he turns his head to face the ground—happy that Mary selected the second arrow and not the third one that pointed to the adult level Superman ride. That goes up several thousand feet!

The muted din inside goes dead as the cocoon begins to move forward. Then whoosh! Up they go! Straight up! The people waiting in the lines below shrivel to the size of ants.

Yahweh’s stomach implodes as it tries to exit his body through his feet. A rushing windstorm replaces the earlier dead silence to buffet his face and ears. The rapid acceleration upwards slows his movement as he turns to face Mary.

In seconds, the invisible force field rockets the flying cocoon upward two hundred feet. There, Yahweh’s flying coffin slows then takes a nosedive. It plummets back to the ground. The rush down produces a weightless condition and Mary’s body begins to float around the cocoon. She has a big silly grin on her face!

Yahweh can feel his eyes bulge as his own arms float by his face. As he accelerates downward, his stomach tries to return a portion of the lunch he had earlier. He fights to contain the meal that’s now a knot of warm liquid gurgling through his throat. As he struggles, Yahweh answers the question Mary asked before. He thinks to himself. . .’Ready daddy?’ No fucken way baby doll!

For her sake, he manages an anemic smile. And his arms, no longer under his control, float around as if to wave hello. She waves back with a muffled giggle as the Superman Ride swings down, around, then back up to repeat the process ten more times before coasting to a soft landing with the nose of the cocoon lifting up just before it touches the ground.

The top of the cocoon opens and Mary jumps out like she is ready to fly the circuit again.

But Yahweh remains inside and tries to keep all bodily fluids within.

They call this damn thing the Superman Ride. . .should have called it the barfin’ coffin!

With his hands still in an outstretched and I surrender position, Yahweh negotiates a peace treaty with his stomach. The terms of the armistice—never do this again. Yahweh recovers just as that same smiling attendant comes up to help him out. Yahweh’s glare softens as his wobbly legs threaten to secede from his body.

It takes ten minutes for Yahweh’s coordination to return. He breaths in deeply, happy that all body parts are cooperating once again. Turning to Mary he says dryly, “Let’s go home honey.”

Mary nods a quick yes as she clasps her hand in his and swings it around.

Yahweh’s stomach quakes at her movement. So before she changes her mind, Yahweh issues a hasty thought command. QUEST, take us out da here.